“Of course,” he said to Gimblet, “no one ever thought of connecting this story of violence and brutality with the two missing ladies. The report didn’t come my way, as it happens, but I don’t suppose for a moment I should have been a scrap the wiser if it had. Still, it makes one feel a bit foolish now, I’ll own.”
Matterson returned with the spade and cord, which proved to be very ordinary; and Gimblet’s inquiring lens could discover nothing about them in any way remarkable.
“What was the man like?” he asked the policeman.
“I didn’t have much time to take notice, sir,” replied Matterson, “but he was a dark fellow with a black beard, and tall.”
“Did you see if he wore gloves?”
“Come to think of it, now you ask me, sir, I believe he did. I saw his hands plain enough as he lifted the spade, and I ought to know. But I couldn’t swear to it, I’m afraid, though my impression is that he did, and that it struck me as curious at the time, in the sort of way a thing will strike you for a moment and then slip out of your memory like a dream does.”
[CHAPTER XXI]
“I bet it’s our man,” said Gimblet, as Jennins dismissed the constable.